Momentum
by SEXIER THAN TELEVISION
Summary: the new kid seems pretty ordinary, but you never know what could be hiding behind those pretty green eyes. · Sam/Quinn, eventual Sam/Kurt, and a bit of Kurt/Blair
1. one

**an:** okay, this is fanfiction. I don't really think I need a disclaimer, it's pretty obvious I don't own Glee.  
I never thought I'd write a Glee fic, but I just _need_ something to happen with Kurt and Sam so, here you go. I know Sam's personality is a little flat in this first chapter. I don't know how long this'll go, but I'm sure his personality will develop more as I write. anyway, enjoy :)

* * *

Sam's mom always made tuna. She always had, too, it was sort of a family tradition, and he'd loved it as a kid. That is, until that tragic afternoon when he'd made himself a sandwich with the leftover tuna in the fridge and bit into a dead fly while eating it. He hadn't eaten tuna again since.

He sat now at a table in the cafeteria of McKinley High with Artie and Finn and Puck and a couple other kids he didn't know, but assumed they were in glee, too. He had decided not to join glee, in order to save whatever reputation he might make for himself. He knew it was a selfish choice, but what could he do? It was hard enough being the new kid. Anyway, he was sitting here because so far, the guys from glee were the only guys he really knew, and they were nice enough. He could have been sitting with the football guys, but, frankly, they were a bunch of jerks.

So far, he'd had a good second week at McKinley. Most of his teachers were decent, he hadn't had much trouble finding his classes, and Coach Beiste was almost kind of nice. He'd even managed to avoid getting 'slushied', which seemed to be a tradition here. But now he sat at this table staring with distaste at the tuna sandwich his mom had packed him this morning.

"Do you want to trade?" said a boy a little down and across the table from him, apparently picking up on his obvious dismay. "I accidentally grabbed my dad's lunch this morning," he explained, making a face. "Hot dog."

Sam's lip tugged up at the corner and he passed the sandwich across the table to this boy, whose name he thought was Kurt, and he got the hot dog in return. "Thanks," he said, and Kurt just smiled back at him. "You're, uh, in glee too?" he asked, thinking he should try to make conversation.

"Yes," said Kurt, perking up at a conversation he could actually carry with the boy. Sam. That was his name. Sam had pretty, hazel-green eyes, but in this light they looked more gray. He also had a mop of beautiful blond hair, a soft, sweet face, and lips so full and pink he almost couldn't look away. He hadn't really _looked_ at Sam before, and now he was sort of wishing he hadn't noticed all these things. Wouldn't life be easier if he'd stop falling for the beautiful straight football-player type? "It's really a shame you didn't join, Sam," he said, moving his bangs back into place with a finger. Kurt could have been an actor. The only person who might've noticed his gaze lingering on Sam's expertly chiseled features was Mercedes, and she wasn't here right now. Thank God.

"Right, well, I'm...really busy and stuff. Sorry." Sam took a bite of his hot dog, and Finn had to nudge Puck in the ribs because he was staring at Sam's mouth again. "What?" he mouthed, and swallowed another forkful of mashed potatoes.

"Mmm." Kurt's mouth was full of sandwich. He swallowed it down and said, "This sandwich is _divine_. What's in it?" Sam smiled, glad at least someone liked it. "I don't really know, actually," he said, "my mom made it."

There was a laugh a ways down the table. "Your mom still packs you lunch?" Mike raised his eyebrows as he asked, and Sam knew he'd just branded himself as a momma's boy for the rest of his high school career.

"Is she hot?" Puck said, straight-faced. Sam's brow creased. Was he seriously asking this? "I don't...she's my _mom_," he said.

"So...she's not hot?"

"I don't know." He was feeling uncomfortable now.

"What I mean is, if she wasn't your mom, would you do her?" Puck raised an eyebrow. There was something comical about his face, how serious he looked. Sam might've found it funny if it hadn't been _him_ undergoing the questioning.

"What, no!" He said

"Shut up, Puck," said Finn. He turned to Sam, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Ignore him," he said. Sam glanced around the table. The other guys seemed to be having a laugh at his expense, but Kurt was nibbling at his sandwich, pretending not to pay any attention to what was happening. Puck had a smirk on his face.

"Is she single?" he asked after a moment.

"Dude!" Finn said, but Puck just shrugged and said, "What?"

Sam couldn't help but find this whole exchange at least a _little_ funny, and he was appreciative of Finn for sticking up for him, but it didn't need to turn into a whole confrontation. "No, she's not," he said simply. He glanced up again and caught Kurt's eye, before quickly looking back down at the apple in his hand. "Shame," Puck said.

The bell rang.


	2. two

**an:** right, that was fast. haha, I don't know, I'm just sitting writing. I don't think I've ever published a second chapter this fast, but maybe it's because the last one was so short. or I'm eager to get more of this done before tomorrow's episode and this is all irrelevant. it's another short one. reviews are really really nice, pretty please :)

* * *

"Beat it, homo," growled a beefy senior. Kurt had a look on his face that plainly said he was used to it, and he knew it would never change. He was sort of flinching away, back against the locker, as if he were afraid of being punched or spit on or something. Or, more likely, afraid his designer sweater would get damaged.

"Hey," said Sam, maneuvering himself into the small space between Kurt and the bully. He'd been passing by, when the 'homo' comment had caught his attention. "What's the problem here?" he asked, trying not to feel fear. Whatever he felt, though, he wasn't about to stand by while someone was being bullied and berated.

"You're about to be the problem if you don't back up out the way," the older student said, but something in his eyes said he wasn't prepared to take on the new kid. See, being the new kid had its perks sometimes, too. For example, no one knew why Sam had left his old school. Maybe he'd moved, maybe his parents had wanted him in a better football program. Or, maybe he'd been kicked out. Maybe he was a bad kid. If only they knew the real truth...

"Look," said Sam, calmly, placing a hand on the boy's chest, "if you don't walk away and leave my friend here alone, I'm _going_ to become a problem for you, ya get me?" He gave a menacing half-grin.

The boy's brows creased. "Alright then," he said, "next time, sister." And with a glance at Kurt, he spat on Sam's face and walked off.

Sam made a disgusted noise and lifted his shirt to wipe his face as Kurt stepped out from behind him (his eyes falling for a moment to Sam's toned abdomen). "Brian," he said. "He likes to spit." He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and started dabbing at Sam's face. "Thanks," he said. "I mean, you didn't have to do that."

"Nah," Sam shrugged. "I can't stand when people are so...judgmental. Why should he be such a jerk just cause you like guys?" He stopped suddenly, watching Kurt's face for a reaction. "I mean...you...do, right? I'm not just jumping to conclusions or... Now I'm the judgmental one, I'm sorry..." He looked at his feet, frowning. Why did he have such a (figuratively) big mouth sometimes?

"No," Kurt said, matter-of-factly. "No, I'm gay as a rainbow." He even smiled a little, and Sam smiled a bit, too.

"Well," Sam trailed off and began to wander toward his locker, and he was pleased when Kurt followed him. "What class do you have next?" he asked, opening up his locker and putting his binder inside it.

"Glee," said Kurt, leaning up against the lockers, and for about the thousandth time, Sam felt a pang of sadness that he hadn't joined the club. He took out his math book and put it in his book bag. His locker was pretty plain, except for a couple of those magnetic pencil holders stuck to the door and a picture of his little sister. She was twelve now, and becoming an absolute brat, but he smiled at her picture all the same.

"You know," said Kurt, looking Sam in the eye in that unsettling way he had, "it's not too late to join, I'm sure Mr. Schue would audition you..." Sam gave a sorry half-smile. "I just don't think..."

"Oh right," said Kurt a little coldly. "wouldn't want to tarnish your budding reputation." He started to walk away, and Sam called after him, "Wait, Kurt...it's not like that."

Except it was, and Kurt kept walking.


	3. three

**an:** hey, this is pretty fun :) I hope you guys are liking them. I know this one's even shorter, but sometimes something just stops where it stops.  
oh, and I obviously don't own the song, either.

* * *

Apparently, defending the gay kid and threatening the school beefhead wasn't a smart thing to do. It had been a week since the incident with the bully, and already he'd been swirlied and wedgied and thrown in a dumpster. He was already getting poor grades in Spanish, English, and Geometry, and Coach Beiste was riding the footballers hard. He felt like he needed a break.

The slushie was what undid him. It was Thursday. It was unexpected, freezing, grape-flavored humiliation. He turned around and went straight to the nearest bathroom and cried over the sink, trying to wash the sticky mess off his face and out of his hair.

What in the hell had been the point of pretending? It had done him no good. What was the point of trying to maintain a reputation in a place where doing the right thing made you an outcast. The whole reason he'd transferred schools was to avoid this exact situation.

Well, when you're going to hell, you may as go your way. He took off his shirt and started dabbing at it with a paper towel, trying to get the purple out of it, and when he was done, he went to talk to Ms. Pillsbury. He was relieved, at least, to have a person like her in this school he could talk to and be honest with.

Everyone looked a bit surprised when he showed up in the choir room for seventh period. "Is it too late to join the glee club?" he asked, looking at Mr. Schue, but really needing the approval of the other students in the room.

"Ah...sure, Sam," said Mr. Schue, looking through some papers on his music stand - presumably for the roll sheet. "Would you mind doing a quickie audition?"

"Um...no problem." He gestured toward the acoustic guitar in the corner. "Can I use this?" Mr. Schuester nodded, and he picked up the guitar and put the strap over his head. Everyone was still watching on with a sort of guarded curiosity.

"What are you gonna sing?" Mr. Schue asked.

"It's called 'Where We Went Wrong' by The Hush Sound," he said, and started playing.

_My heart has lost its wind now,  
__broken like a dead sail  
__my love has drifted out to sea._

_My body has been claimed,  
__soul has been shipped away  
__can't feel the sand between my toes._

His voice was soft but strong, and somehow, the song fit his mood. He couldn't exactly tell what the others' reactions meant; Rachel had perked up and was paying a lot of attention; Finn had a funny smile on his face, probably satisfied at having 'discovered' Sam; Mercedes looked like she did not exactly approve of his song choice; and Artie started singing backup.

_We set the wrong course and headed due north,  
__that's where we went wrong  
__We were young and learning, steady hearts hate turning,  
__that's where we went wrong._

_My will to fight has been flushed  
__seized like blank babies' faces  
__the waterline begins to rise_

_Let the tide swallow me whole  
__like morning light in windows  
__let that dark water take me home_

Kurt seemed to be making a point of not looking at him. Puck was bobbing his head. Mr. Schuester looked pleased.

_We set the wrong course and headed due north,  
__that's where we went wrong  
__We were young and learning, steady hearts hate turning  
__that's where we went wrong._

And then Quinn surprised him by joining in.

_Hey, come back to me  
_Hey, come back to me  
_Hey, come back to me  
_Baby come back to me  
(ba ba da ba ba ba)

_Hey, come back to me  
_Hey, come back to me  
_Hey, come back to me  
_Baby come back to me  
(ba ba da ba ba ba)

_Hey, come back to me  
_Hey, come back to me  
_Hey, come back to me  
_Baby come back to me  
(ba ba da ba ba ba)

_Hey, come back to me  
_Baby come back to me

_We set the wrong course and headed due north  
__that's where we went wrong  
__We were young and learning, steady hearts hate turning  
__that's where we went wrong._

Everyone clapped. Sam smiled. Mr. Schue clapped him on the shoulder.

"Welcome to New Directions."


	4. four

**an:** wow. I woke up this morning to 22 email notifications about story alerts and favorites and reviews. you guys are so lovely :) I don't think I've ever gotten such a good response so quickly. but maybe it's because I'm writing these chapters so fast. anyway, I'm very glad you guys like it, and, it'd be very nice if you left a review as well as add to story alert or whatever, because the feedback really helps and encourages me to keep writing!

Bonus: the whole fly-in-the-tuna thing...that happened to me. but I still eat tuna sandwiches :)

* * *

The past couple weeks had gone fairly well. He'd gotten one more slushie in the face once the other football players heard he joined glee (they called him a Finn clone), but other than that and a mid-week trip to the dumpster it seemed the school had decided he'd learned his lesson. Things were looking up again for Sam Evans. He was still the quarterback of the football team, his grades were slowly improving, and he was dating the head cheerleader.

They'd been going out about a week. It was hard to explain, but it had just happened. Quinn had been assigned to tutor him in Spanish, a subject which was extremely difficult for him but unfortunately required. But she seemed happy to help. They studied at his house two nights a week, and she adored his sister Marissa. She'd been flirting with him for a week before he finally asked her out by her locker one morning, and from there the pieces sort of fell together. It felt natural, him being the quarterback and her the head cheerleader. It was the way of the world, and he liked her, and she liked him.

So they did all the usual high school couple things - they held hands in the halls, he carried her books for her, walked her to class and kissed her on the cheek. They had to double up their study sessions, as not a lot of actual studying was getting done. She was very clear with him, though, that she would _not_ be having sex with him, and he said he understood. Once you've been a teen pregnancy statistic, being intimate with someone again can't be easy.

And Quinn, despite all appearances, had more confidence issues than ever. She was constantly paranoid of losing her position on the Cheerios. She had vigorous workout routines (in addition to what Coach Sylvester put them through) because she was worried she still carried a little baby weight. And she shuddered and pushed Sam's hands away whenever he touched her barely-there stretch marks.

"Quinn," he said softly, lying next to her on his twin-size bed, hand hovering over her hip, "you're so beautiful, you shouldn't be embarrassed." He kissed her and she let a few tears escape.

"Why are you so perfect?" she asked. His eyebrows brows drew together and his vision clouded as he thought about how imperfect he actually was. If only she knew. Would she be here right now? "I'm not," he said, simply, his voice lower than before.

She recognized the look on his face, and sat up. "Do you want to talk about something?" He sat up on his knees facing her and shook his head. "No," he said, laying his hand on her neck. "I just wanna kiss you some more." He smiled, and he did kiss her, and he pulled her down on top of him, and she smiled against his lips.

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okay, so, it was a short one, sorry. there will be more coming up. if anyone has any suggestions, I'd be glad to hear them :)


	5. five

**an:** thanks for all the support, guys. this is super fun, and I'm glad you like reading it. don't forget to leave a review!

* * *

Kurt had gotten over his momentary hatred of Sam. In fact, they were pretty good friends now. Kurt tried to keep his feelings friendly, but he could hardly deny an attraction to the latest addition to New Directions. It was tough; he knew Sam would never feel that way, and didn't want a repeat of the whole Finn incident. Believe it or not, none of that had been fun for him.

So, it hurt to see Sam kissing Quinn at lunch, or to see them leaving school together, or to hear from Quinn about how sweet he was, but he took it in stride, tried not to let it get to him. If his heart got broken again like last time, it would be all his own fault for falling for another straight quarterback. Why, oh why did he have such certain distinguished tastes in men?

And through all this, Sam was very nice to Kurt. He seemed ignorant of Kurt's feelings. After those first few weeks, he seemed to worry a lot less about what people thought of him. He wasn't afraid to be seen talking with Kurt at his locker - or any of the other Glee members, for that matter. He took to pushing Artie around, he liked the kid's conversation and they found common ground in the realm of video games and indie music, though Artie did not share Sam's love for country, and Sam couldn't enjoy rap like Artie could.

"Hey, Sam," said Kurt one day, leaning up against the locker next to Sam's.

"Hey, Kurt." Sam smiled, and closed his locker.

"So," Kurt said, "I looked up The Hush Sound. They're pretty alright." He smiled, too. "Not exactly my style, but I like some of their songs. Most of the ones where the girl is singing, her voice is gorgeous."

Sam shouldered his backpack and leaned against his locker. "Yeah? Well I'm glad you like them."

"So I was thinking we should exchange mixes," Kurt said. He knew Sam wasn't exactly into showtunes, but he might change his mind. Anyway, that wouldn't be all that would be on there. Some Imogen Heap, some Florence + The Machine, and he was excited to see what Sam would think he liked.

"Alright." Sam ran his tongue over his teeth and went to meet up with Quinn.

Meanwhile, Sam's relationship with Finn was strained. He guessed it was natural, seeing as he'd basically stolen his position on the football team. Not to mention dating his ex-girlfriend and making friends with all of his friends. He felt sorry for it, but at least he and Finn had so far managed to maintain a friendly tone of voice when they spoke to one another. He and Puck got along famously, though they were very different, they, too, shared a passion for music, and Sam loved Puck's sense of humor.

Then there was Rachel. Sam wasn't exactly the president of the Rachel Berry fan club. She was barely tolerable, always trying to upstage everyone and hog the spotlight. Apparently she was the whole reason a girl named Sunshine had changed schools. He didn't hate her, but he didn't much like being around her, in a way he felt like she sucked energy out of a room. But he couldn't deny her voice was incredible, so he respected her for that at least.

Kurt had been acting a little strange, lately. Right now he was sitting a couple seats away, next to Mercedes, and he seemed to be doing his best not to look at Sam, while Mercedes stared straight at him. They were talking in hushed tones, and Kurt blushed, and Sam looked away. He shouldn't care so much, anyway. He was with Quinn and...well, Kurt was always getting worked up over something.

Then there was the day Kurt ran into him in the hall. I mean, literally _ran into him_. He dropped his Spanish book and a stack of papers, which flew everywhere. Kurt was obviously already upset. He swore under his breath and bent down to pick up his belongings.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, also bending down to fetch the loose papers. "You've been acting a little..." He trailed off when he saw the paper in his hand. He tried to seem like he wasn't looking, but pretty much failed at that. At a glance, it looked like a conversation, one of those notes you pass back and forth in class, with Kurt's small neat handwriting, and Mercedes' big curvy lettering.

_Is it Sam?_

_I like him, okay. I don't know what to do._

Sam's heart seemed to drop, and then the paper was snatched from his hand and Kurt stood up, forgetting about the other papers. "Just...just leave me alone, okay?" he said, eyes glistening. He started walking away, but Sam heard him mutter, "I can't do this again..."

Sam stood dumbstruck in the hall looking after him, and finally blinked himself out of his thoughts and began to gather the other papers Kurt had dropped.


	6. six

_Poppin bottles in the ice, like a blizzard  
__When we drink we do it right, gettin slizzard  
__Sippin sizzurp in my ride, like Three 6  
__Now I'm feelin so fly like a G6_

Sam put his hand up in the air, the other around Quinn's waist, grinding as the music assaulted his ears. Someone had really gone all out with this house party - colored lights and a huge set of speakers and all the alcohol they'd need. He didn't actually know whose house it was. He'd gotten a bright-colored flyer in his locker a couple days ago, and Quinn said she wanted to go, so here he was. He was glad he'd come.

Kurt had been avoiding him in the couple weeks since he'd read the note. He'd tried to talk to him, but what could he do? So mostly he'd gone on with his life, and the party seemed like a good way to let go and just have fun. So he did. He drank a beer and danced with his girlfriend, he hung out with his friends. And when he saw Kurt, he tried to ignore him.

But he couldn't. "I'm gonna get a drink," he said to Quinn. "Do you want something?"

"A glass of punch would be nice," she said, and Sam squeezed his way out of the living room/dance floor and followed Kurt around a corner.

"Kurt." He grabbed the boy's elbow, and he turned around with an annoyed look on his face. "What?"

"Can we talk?" Sam looked earnest. Kurt really didn't want this talk to happen, but he couldn't exactly keep avoiding Sam. He opened the nearest door and started to walk in, but the room was occupied. He hurried out and slammed the door behind him, and Sam couldn't help but laugh at the expression on his face. "How about in here?" He opened the bathroom door, and Kurt closed it behind himself.

"Okay..." He didn't really know how to say what he wanted to say, or exactly what it was he wanted to say, for that matter.

"If this is about that note, you can forget it because I'm over it," Kurt said instead, and turned to leave.

"Wait," Sam said, grabbing Kurt's hand, but he quickly let go of it when Kurt turned around. "Look, if you...like me, it's okay." Kurt crossed his arms and looked out the window over Sam's shoulder. "I mean, it's not weird or anything. I just...I'm with Quinn, you know? But it's not weird, I don't want it to be weird between us, I liked when we were friends. I'm just sorry I can't...reciprocate...or whatever." He wasn't sure 'reciprocate' was the right word, it sounded funny coming out of his mouth, but Kurt knew what he meant. He took a deep breath, let it out, and finally looked Sam in the eyes.

"Really?"

Sam's lips quirked up into that half-smile Kurt adored. "Yeah, really. I'm tired of there being this awkwardness between us. That's over, okay. I kind of know how you feel, anyway."

Kurt smiled. _It's not really possible for him to know how I feel, but at least he's trying._

"So come dance with us." Sam smiled, and he and Kurt walked back to the dance floor.

"Where's my punch?" Quinn asked. Sam looked confused. "Huh?"

"You were going to get me a drink," she said.

"Oh yeah."

He got Quinn's drink, and then the glee club danced the rest of the night, friendship restored.

**

* * *

an:** yeahhh...it's kind of corny, but I'm in a hurry to get to choir. I'll probably update again tonight. okay, leave me some nice reviews, and I hope you liked it :)


	7. seven

**an:** okay. here's the untold truth I've been holding back. are you ready? okay. Sam...he has a baby.

* * *

It was a 1967 Ford F100, with its red and white paint job still perfectly intact, original factory hubcaps and vintage dealer license frame, and the door panels and steering wheel were original. The seat covers were worn, and it was a stick-shift, but he would learn.

"Are you serious?" he asked, gaping at his father, who was leaning against the beautiful piece of machine in the driveway. "I mean...are you _serious_?" He couldn't have wiped the smile off his face with steel wool.

"Well," said his father, a handsome man of about 43 whose dark hair was graying at the sides, "you'll have to work to pay me back your half of the money."

Sam, still grinning like it was Christmas, hugged his dad, and when he pulled away his eyes went straight back to the truck. _His_ truck. His _baby_.

"What are you going to name it?" asked Marissa, coming out the front door of the house with a fudgecicle in one hand and her cell phone in the other.

"I...wasn't planning on naming it," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "It _has_ to have a name. All good cars do. _Not_ that this is a good car," she asserted, "but it has...personality."

Sam smiled, ignoring her jab at the new love of his life. "Can I drive it?"

Mr. Evans smiled and held out the keys.

"Shotgun!" called Marissa, as Sam grabbed the keys and went around to the driver's side.

"It smells funny," his sister said.

"Scootch over honey," their Dad said, climbing into the car as well. Sam couldn't drive the thing before he taught him about the gear shift. So he did. Sam caught on fast.

That was a couple weeks earlier. Sam had mastered the gearshift by now, and that car was his pride and joy. He'd named it Esther.

"Are you ever going to stop calling your truck by name?" Quinn asked. Sam pretended to think about it.

"Hmmmm...nope." He smiled, and gave Quinn a quick kiss. "What should I wear tonight?"

Tonight was the fabled and feared meeting of the parents. Sam's parents had met and loved Quinn, but according to legend (and what Sam heard from Finn), Quinn's parents were not so welcoming, and they already didn't appreciate the fact that Quinn had another boyfriend.

Quinn looked contemplative. She ran her fingers over his letterman jacket. "Something...nice," she said, and looked up at him. Again, he was halfway stunned to silence by her big brown eyes and those long, pretty lashes. "Like, suit-and-tie nice, or good-jeans nice?"

"Suit and tie."

Sam shrugged. "Okay." He was not okay. He was nervous as hell.

"Mom, Daddy, this is Sam," Quinn said, gesturing to the spiffed-up boy next to her. He'd put on his best dark gray suit and a light green tie that complimented his eyes. He'd even bought new dress shoes, because his old ones didn't fit him.

He swallowed hard. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Fabray," he said, extending his hand to Quinn's father. The man had a firm grip. It was all Sam could do not to wring out his hand afterward.

"Dinner's almost ready, it's right through there," said Mrs. Fabray, gesturing toward the nicest dining room Sam had ever been in. Quinn took his hand and led him through the house, and he sat down next to her. Most of the evening was spent in careful silence. No one seemed to want to break the ice.

"Have some asparagus, dear," Quinn's mother said once. Sam loved asparagus, but it had a peanut sauce drizzled over it.

"I'd love to, but I can't. I'm allergic to peanuts."

"I thought I told you that, Mom," Quinn said quietly.

"That's too bad," said Mrs. Fabray.

After dinner they sat in the living room. Mr. Fabray had a glass of brandy and Mrs. Fabray had white wine.

"Do you go to church, Sam?" she asked.

Sam cleared his throat. "No, ma'am," he said, "but it's just because we haven't found the right one." He smiled, hoping this was an adequate answer.

"Oh, well, as long as you aren't a pentecostal," she said with a laugh that didn't quite suit her.

Sam wasn't really sure what a pentecostal was. "No, ma'am," he said.

"I see you drive an old pick-up truck," said Mr. Fabray.

Sam smiled more genuinely this time. "Yes, sir. She's a '67 Ford F100. I just got her a couple weeks ago."

"Wonderful cars," Quinn's father said. "Very reliable. I hope it's done well for you."

"Yes, sir."

That was pretty much the end of conversation, until Mr. Fabray announced it was time to call it a night, and Sam drove away, not really sure whether the evening had been a success or not.

* * *

hah. I was just joshin'. yeah, sorry there are no other characters, I wanted to get a bit more of Sam's family and...yeah. I'll try to come up with some great ideas for the next update, I'm thinking of including more of the minor characters I haven't really mentioned. again, if you have any suggestions I'd be really glad to hear them. they'd be really helpful :) oh, and I think I may introduce Blair in the next chapter... :)


	8. ch8 teaser

**an:** okay guys, I'm sorry it's taking me so long to get the next chapter up. it's become necessary to develop a plot line for the rest of the story, and it's pretty good, let me tell you! but I'm having a friend help me and it's just taking a while. anyway, so here's a little teaser of chapter eight. think of it as sort of a promo :)

* * *

_'Never Been Kissed' _preview

"Well, they didn't hate you as much as they hated Finn," she said with a smile, putting her arm around his waist under his jacket.

"Oh my _God_ they hated Finn," Kurt said, arranging his bangs in the mirror in his locker.

None of this was making Sam feel any better.

"Look," Quinn said, sensing Sam's unease, "don't worry about it. My parents don't like anyone. But _I_ like you." She smiled and pressed him gently up against the lockers and kissed him. Kurt wanted to look away, but he couldn't, so he pretended to keep fixing his already perfect hair while he stared at them in the mirror. It was pathetic, but in a way it seemed like Quinn was doing it on purpose. Not that she could know, unless Sam had told her, but Kurt didn't think so. Sam didn't seem like the type of guy to betray someone's trust like that.

It was kind of beautiful and tragic. Their bodies moved together perfectly. Kurt sometimes secretly envied Quinn for her easy grace. And Sam was...well, Sam was perfection itself. He was so blond and tall and handsome and excruciatingly sweet. Even making out with Quinn he looked like he was holding a butterfly in his hands, so scared to damage its wings. It pained Kurt to admit it, but they were kind of perfect for each other. He could feel tears starting in his eyes and he tried to take a deep breath and hold it in.

The bell rang.


	9. eight

**an:** it is finally here! I'm so sorry for making you guys wait, I hope this one's worth it! please leave reviews, as they are the main form of encouragement to continue this and they make me feel really good :)

* * *

"See you later, babe," Sam said, planting a final kiss on Quinn's lips and following Kurt to English. Since he'd joined Glee Club, he'd had to switch around most of his classes, and he now had fellow glee members in most of his classes.

He sat in the desk in front of Kurt, and as the teacher droned on about the Great Gatsby, Kurt stared at the back of his head and imagined running his fingers through that soft blond hair. He watched the muscles in Sam's arms move as he wrote with a spacey smile on his face, and sometimes Sam would turn around and smile at him, almost like he knew what he was thinking. And he just might.

Ever since Sam found out about Kurt's feelings, Kurt had been trying not to let things feel awkward, but they still did. It seemed like that wouldn't change. But Sam had surprised him by being so nice about the whole thing. He'd said he understood, and, while Kurt didn't buy it at the time, maybe he did. Hasn't every high schooler felt the agony of liking someone who didn't like them back? Sam was such a sweetheart, it really didn't do much to help Kurt not like him.

"Do you like it fast or slow?"

"What?" Kurt was shaken out of his daydream to find Sam turned around in his seat looking back at him.

Sam smiled. "Music. You know, those mix tapes we were gonna make? Do you like fast music or slow music?"

"Oh," Kurt said, adding some floral details to the dress he was designing instead of doing his class work. "I didn't know we were still making those. Ummm...a mix of both?" He smiled.

The bell rang.

At his locker, Kurt was packing his bag to go home, when there was a sharp beeping noise behind and to the left of him. It got closer and faster, like a metal detector, and he realized the person who had passed him was making it as he backed up. He turned around and leaned against his locker as the boy - a beautiful, well-dressed boy with curly brown hair and warm eyes - stopped in front of him. "What are you doing?" he asked, not at all amused. And who the hell are you?

"That was my gaydar going off," the stranger said, in a smooth, deep voice. He leaned up against the locker next to Kurt's. "How you doin'?" He nodded at Kurt as he said this, grinning.

"And who are you?" Kurt praised himself inside for his composure. Was this beautiful strange boy really making a pass at him? He was almost jumping for joy inside, but on the outside he was cool and collected, as usual. Perfect controlled facial expressions. A tilt of an eyebrow, a quirk of the lip. I'll be an actor yet.

"Blair Barks," the boy said. "Lead baritone of the Dalton Academy Warblers." He held out his hand for a shake, but Kurt folded his arms over his chest instead, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "So you're here spying on us?" He felt like he was in a story that kept repeating itself. New Directions does well, other glee clubs try to steal our thunder, they succeed, we lose, blah, blah.

Blair laughed. It was the kind of laugh that made you want to laugh along, too, except that Kurt was supposed to be pretending to be bored by him. "No, not at all," he said. "I'm here to give a message to your director, William Schuester."

Kurt grinned. "I see, so you're their messenger boy."

"No," Blair said. "I'm the director's son."

"Ahh, nepotism."

Blair frowned. "Are you questioning my musical ability? Because we can show down and I'll show you up, just name the time and place, sweetheart."

"Fred Kelly Stadium, 8:00 tomorrow night. Bring an audience."

"Ooh, sorry, can't tomorrow. Vampire Diaries is on."

"Cop out."

Blair smiled. "But I can TiVo it! See you there."

"It's on, pretty boy."

"Like Donkey Kong," Blair pivoted on his heel and walked off. Kurt smiled and leaned up against his locker.

"Kurt?"

He didn't realize Sam was standing next to him until he heard his name called.

"Who was that?"

"Blair Barker," he said simply.

"Is he new?"

"No, he goes to Dalton."

"So...what was he doing here?"

Kurt turned around and fixed his hair in the mirror once more. "No idea," he said, closing his locker, and they headed out to the parking lot. "So, I was thinking about that English assignment," Sam said as they walked. "Do you think you could come over later tonight and help me with- Oh shit."

Sam saw it before Kurt did. He put his hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"Oh my God," said the boy in a disbelieving tone, higher than his usual tone of voice. There in the parking lot stood his black SUV as he'd left it, but spray-painted across the side of it in bright pink paint was the word 'FAG'. "Oh my God," he repeated. They moved closer and saw that the tires were slashed as well, and the same offensive word was painted on the back of the car.

Sam was watching Kurt for warning signs of a breakdown, but the boy seemed to be reacting to this very well. He, however, couldn't help but lose his temper a little and kick the tire of a neighboring car. "Damn it!" he yelled, seething. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

"Well, look, I'm sure if we call your dad he can send a tow truck, right?" he said.

Kurt shook his head. "No," he said. "No, I don't want him to know about this, it would just freak him out."

"Kurt, don't you think he's going to find out about it eventually?"

Kurt shook his head again. "No, I don't know. I don't want to think about it right now." He turned away from the car and looked Sam in the eye. "Can you give me a ride home?"

Sam nodded, and led the way to his pick-up. The way to Kurt's house was silent. Sam couldn't decide whether it was better that Kurt seemed to be okay, or if it would be better if he'd just break down and get it over with. He was already outraged at the lack of tolerance in this town. Why is it that when things seem to be going well, everything goes to hell?

"Ugh, Rachel's here," Kurt said, frowning. He so did not want to be around her perky shiny diva-ness right now.

Sam bit his lip, knowing he might regret this later. "Do you want to just come over to my house? We can just chill, do homework or something." Kurt was silent for a moment and then nodded. Sam could see his eyes were about to spill. He squeezed Kurt's shoulder and drove home.

Sam's house was your generic suburban one-story, built around the 40's or 50's to be identical to all the other houses on the block. Of course, since then houses had been painted and remodeled and added onto, so they weren't identical at all, but the inside layout was basically the same for them all. There was a great room - combining dining room and living room, a good-sized kitchen, and a hallway that led to the bedrooms and the guest bathroom. It was modest, but it was clean and cozy, and had mismatched personal touches everywhere, from a painting of a ship sailing in muted sunset colors to an old yellow and green afghan over the couch to gently used (and a bit scratched) dining set that was Mrs. Evans' pride and joy. Kurt liked it, it felt comfortable.

He poured himself a Diet Coke while Sam put a bag of popcorn in the microwave and picked out a selection of movies. He was doing his best to hold it together, but all he really wanted to do was curl up in a ball on his bed and cry. Of course, Finn and Rachel would probably be doing unspeakable things in his bedroom at this very moment, and that was something he could not deal with. When Sam came back into the kitchen Kurt's tears were gently rolling down his cheeks. It was shocking to see someone usually so composed just lose it. He put the movies down on the counter and drew the sobbing boy into his arms, holding him tight with a hand on his neck, and Kurt didn't really know how to react. Nor did he want to. He just let himself sob into Sam's shoulder, feeling guilty for probably ruining his shirt - though in retrospect Sam probably didn't care about his clothes as much as Kurt did.

When Kurt had finally calmed down a bit, he detached himself from Sam and picked a movie from the stack Sam had brought over - a surprisingly gay selection of romantic comedies and musicals, he figured Sam was trying to cater to his tastes. He picked Hairspray, and they sat on the couch and watched it and ate popcorn. Sam had tried to get him to talk about it, but gave up after a little while, and went on like nothing had happened. They watched their movie and Kurt's tears dried, and Sam kept looking over at him for a sign of instability, but no such sign appeared. Kurt would be fine, as he always was. He'd move on, and the face he'd present to the world would be one of strength and contentedness. Sam kind of admired him for that.

"So, any new gossip?" Sam turned facing Kurt, and Kurt did the same.

"What, because I'm gay I'm a gossip?"

Sam smiled. "No, because you're you you're a gossip."

Kurt smiled and shrugged. "Well," he said, scooting a little closer like it was a big secret, even though no one else was in the room. "Mercedes has a new crush." Sam raised his eyebrows. "Oh, but I can't tell you, because she'll throttle me," Kurt continued, "Tina and Artie are still on the outs, but Artie is still obsessed with getting abs and winning her back. I think he's better off without her. I mean, someone who's gonna get with someone on the sole basis of a nice set of abs doesn't sound like a great girlfriend." Sam laughed. "Yeah, no, not really," he said.

"Then...it is still impossible to tell if Santana and Brittany will ever be a full-on lesbian couple, but the yearbook staff and film club department - of which Jacob Ben Israel makes up about 35% - is hopeful. And sources say that the dress Katrina Vance will be wearing to Winter Formal is extremely provocative, and she'll likely be kicked out."

Sam smiled. "What about you, no new dirty secrets?"

Kurt felt flushed. "Not really, other than there are apparently a group of homophobic rednecks out for my head." And the fact that I'm pretty much in love with you right now. He couldn't help it. He tried, really tried, but Sam was so beautiful, with his gray-green eyes boring unabashedly into his right now, and those pretty, soft pink lips.

"I'm gonna get another drink, you want something?"

Kurt was shaken from his reverie. "Sure, but I can get it." He stood and followed Sam back into the kitchen.

"Oh, check this out," Sam said, grinning and taking a carrot from a drawer in the refrigerator. "My dog goes crazy for carrots, it's hilarious." He took out a knife and started cutting the carrot into pieces.

"Oh," said Kurt. "You have a dog?" He wasn't a big fan of dogs. At all.

Sam was smiling full-force now. "Yeah, her name's Puka, wait till you see-OW!" He stopped short and watched a stream of blood flow from a cut on his finger. He shook his hand, like he was shaking off the pain, and wiped the blood on his shirt without thinking. Kurt winced.

"Damn it!" Sam said. "Why would I do that?" He frowned, looking down at the dark red smear on his shirt.

"That needs to go under cold water right now," Kurt said.

"What, my finger?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "The shirt, silly. You think I care about your little cut?"

Sam laughed. "Ouch."

Kurt held out his hands. "Well come on, off with it," he said twitching his fingers in a way that said 'gimme'. Sam sighed and pulled his shirt over his head and handed it to Kurt, whose eyes had momentarily gone wide staring at Sam's glorious toned upper body. Sam cleared his throat, and Kurt began rinsing the blood stain out of his shirt. "In the mean time, get yourself a band-aid," he said, "and put pressure on the cut. And use Neosporin!" Sam was already digging through the medicine cabinet in the adjacent laundry room.

"Kurt, I may be lacking a little in the grades, but my mommy did teach me how to put on a band-aid," he said, returning to the kitchen. Except he was having a lot of trouble with this one, with his finger out of commission. Kurt took the first-aid supplies and squeezed salve onto Sam's cut finger. He put the band-aid on, hands lingering a fraction of a second too long, taking in the feel of Sam's calloused hands. He looked up slowly, trying not to stare too much at Sam's naked upper half only a few inches in front of him, and he realized for the first time how much taller Sam was than him. It wasn't a whole lot, but at least three or four inches' difference that had him staring straight at that pair of beautiful lips again.

"Thanks," Sam said, probably more softly than intended. He couldn't help but feel, somehow, like he was being pulled forward by an invisible string of some sort. Painfully slowly, though time seemed to have ceased to exist, their faces moved closer, Sam's neck inclined for his face to be on a better level with Kurt's. What was happening? His eyes flicked back and forth between Kurt's gray ones, which were a bit stunning, now that he really looked, and Kurt had this cute odd nose that seemed a bit too big but really worked to make him look more distinguished. Sam knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he couldn't be doing this, but he kept getting closer, and he could see a sort of hopeful fear in Kurt's eyes, and he wanted to tell him not to be afraid, and he wanted to feel his skin under his fingers and run his hands through his perfect hair.

But he didn't, because in the end, he was Sam and Kurt was Kurt and none of that would ever happen because...because Sam was with Quinn. He backed away slowly, and Kurt swallowed and said, "I think you should take me home now." And he did.

Kurt kept his face to the window on the ride back home. He didn't want to face Sam, but mostly he couldn't let Sam see the tears running down his cheeks for the too-manyth time today. When the pulled up in his driveway and he got out of the car, Sam called his name, but he kept walking until he collapsed in his bed and cried until he couldn't cry anymore.

* * *

okay, some notes: every source says differently whether the character's name is Blaine or Blair. I heard Blair first, so I'm sticking with Blair. also, because it's a more unusual name for a boy to have and I rather like it that way.

it was also recently pointed out to me by a dear friend that Quinn's parents split up, therefore making my whole previous chapter incorrect. it really irks me to have forgotten that and strayed so far from canon, but you know what? I'm not going to put in the effort to change it so you can all just deal with it or make your own versions of it in your head :)

thanks to the lovely Bree (Bree-utiful) for helping me with this! She came up with most of the ideas in this one, and she's been a huge help. love ya Bree!


	10. nine

"Hello?" Kurt walked into his dad's office so he could hear over the noise in the garage.

"So here's the thing," said the voice on the other line.

Kurt blinked. "Who is this?"

"Blair." He could almost hear the smile behind the voice, and he couldn't help but smile a little too.

"How the hell did you get this number?"

"I have ways. Anyway, here's the thing. I really like you."

Kurt's heartbeat picked up, and he had to steady himself so his voice wouldn't betray him. "What?"

"I like you," Blair said. "I think we should go out."

Kurt could feel his face going red. He closed the office door and sat down in the desk chair. "Um...Okay."

"So let's blow off this stupid showdown thing and go to the movies or something instead."

Kurt's smile faded. "This isn't just another cop-out, is it?"

Blair laughed. "No, I just really want to see you. Why did you think I challenged you anyway?"

"Because you're a pretentious prat with a massive ego?"

Blair laughed even harder. "Yes, but that's not the only thing that's massive."

Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Lol, jokes. It was cause you're hot, Kurt. You're really cute and just fucking sexy and I want to be with you and I think we have similar personalities and it could work."

"Hmm..." Kurt said, but he was smiling ear-to-ear.

"Movies, tonight, you pick the flick and I'll pick you up at seven."

"Do you even know where I live?"

"Yes."

"What-"

-click-

Kurt spent a moment in confusion, before getting up and dancing around the small office. He didn't see his dad laughing at him through the window.

* * *

"So here's Kurt, in my house, looking at me with those damn beautiful eyes and I feel like he sees my soul." Sam shook his head. "No, that sounds really stupid and corny." He was sitting in Emma Pillsbury's office, pouring out his heart to the only person he could. Emma watched him with rapture. People might make fun of her or say she wasn't any good at this, but she really, truly loved her job. She loved hearing their stories and being in a position to help the kids. Most of them didn't open up much, but then there were the select few who did, and Sam was one of them. He'd never been shy to tell her the whole truth and nothing but, ever since the first day he'd arrived at McKinley, and that made her extremely proud.

He'd stepped into her office and picked up a pamplet at random, laughing at the obnoxious cover. "Can I help you with something?" she'd asked, smiling at the new student. He sat down. "I'm Sam Evans. I'm new here. I just joined the football team and passed up an audition for the Glee club to save my reputation and no one knows that I'm bisexual."

She knew as a staff member she wasn't supposed to have favorite students, but he was one of them.

"It's like, he's home. Not like he feels at home at my house, but he feels like my home, like I belong with him. Does that even make sense?" Emma nodded, feeling the beginnings of tears in her eyes. "So I almost did it. I almost just took fate in my hands and kissed the boy, and I wanted to. Oh my God did I want to. But I'm dating Quinn, and I kind of love her, I guess, but it's not the same. I really care about her, and I like being with her, and she's so sweet and beautiful and I guess everything I'm supposed to want, but I love Kurt. I don't even know how, I didn't even realize I felt this way but he was just there in my house and we were bonding because he was having an emotional day and I hurt myself and he was fixing my finger and... I love him. But he freaked out, he asked me to take him home and I did. Because I mean, what am I supposed to do? And I know he didn't want me to see but on the way home he was crying. I feel like I could die, I can't believe I did that to him, I made him cry like that. I feel like I should have kept it in my pants, if you know what I mean. Not literally, because I mean nothing happened, but you know the expression?"

Emma nodded, and Sam leaned forward in his chair. "I'm so glad I have you, Miss Pillsbury, I can't talk to anyone else about this. I mean, I could talk to my mom but that's a little weird, I don't know, I don't want to talk to my mom about love and relationships and the way Kurt makes me feel...you know. It'd just be weird." He was talking fast, and he knew he wasn't making much sense, but it just felt so good to have someone there listening that he kept going. "I mean, not just relationships with guys. Talking to my mom about girls would be weird too."

"Why do you think Kurt reacted the way he did?"

Sam bit his lip. "I don't know. He thinks I'm straight. He thought I was just fucking with him-sorry, I meant messing with him. I don't blame him."

* * *

"Uh, oh, it's Sag-zilla."

Quinn rolled her eyes and turned around to see Santana passing, pinkies linked with Brittany, as usual. She slammed her locker shut and walked in the other direction toward Spanish, but she paused halfway down the hall when she heard a familiar voice, and turned her eyes to the window of the guidance counsellor's office.

And there was Sam.

Okay, Sam needs guidance. That's not that unusual, I'm sure it's fine.

But then she heard: "Everyone thinks I'm straight. I mean, I've just let them, but I haven't exactly misled anyone. I just...haven't told them I'm bi. I thought it would be easier to just try to avoid the subject, because, you know, how people reacted at my old school." Emma nodded, and then her eyes went wide, seeing the furious girl through the blinds in the window.

"Um, Sam," she said, nodding toward the window. Quinn turned around, blinking back tears, and started walking away, but Sam caught her wrist. She tried to shake him off, but his grip was strong. Gentle, but unbreakable.

"Quinn," he said, at a loss for what to say next.

She turned around. "Please tell me..." Her cheeks were wet. He laid his hand gently on her arm and brushed her tears away with his thumb.

"Quinn, I love you," he said.

She shook her head. "How could you? How could you hide things from me? And something so important. What am I supposed to think? How am I supposed to deal with knowing that my boyfriend of the past few months isn't who I believed him to be?"

"I'm still me," he said in a subdued voice. It hurt that she'd react this way, but he knew it was his fault, and if he wanted it to be different, he should've told her himself in the first place.

She'd stopped crying. She was just staring at him with a sort of revulsion in her eyes. "You're a liar, Sam Evans, and if it weren't for my reputation, I'd probably never want to see you again." If she broke up with him now, and anyone else found out about his little secret, it'd look like she turned him gay, or like she was just his beard.

"I'm with you, Quinn, I don't see how it matters. I should have told you, but it doesn't make me a different person. Don't you love me?"

She blinked, and nodded slowly, tears starting up again.

"Please don't cry, Q, I love you so much." He drew her into his arms. He was disgusted at himself, spewing out another half-lie to hold onto someone he half-loved, but he didn't want to hurt her. He hated hurting her like he hated hurting Kurt. So he held her close to him and she sobbed into his neck and the bell rang and the halls slowly filled with students who barely took notice of them.

* * *

Blair pulled up at seven on the nose.

Kurt had been freaking out all day, trying to choose the right outfit and making sure his hair was perfectly in place and that his breath didn't stink or anything. Burt had come down the stairs at one point, grinning and leaning against the rail. "What's with you today?" he said, "You're acting like you've got a date or something."

When Kurt just stood there and smiled, apprehension dawned. Burt cleared his throat. "Oh. Well, um. You know... just..."

Kurt's cheeks turned red. "Look, Dad, you don't have to worry about 'the talk' or anything. Carole took care of it weeks ago. And...it's just a first date."

Burt swallowed. "Oh. Okay. Well...have fun, son." He went back up the stairs, confused and a bit shocked. My son is dating now? Kurt's dating now. Kurt has a date. My son's growing up.

The butterflies were fluttering full-force when he got into the passenger seat of Blair's shiny black 2010 Dodge Challenger. It was a beautiful car, one of Kurt's favorites. "Hi," he said, smiling.

"Hey," said Blair, taking off. Kurt buckled his seatbelt. Blair was a bit of a reckless driver. One of those types who is such a good driver that they take way more risks and shortcuts than necessary. Kurt almost wished he hadn't gotten into the car, but the excitement was kind of worth it. "What movie did you pick?"

Kurt smiled. "Well, Nowhere Boy looked good," he said. "It's showing at 7:30 at Century."

Blair grinned. "Perfect."

They got their snacks and talked through the pre-show and repetitive celebrity trivia questions (every one of which they both answered correctly). Blair was...different. He was sweet and attentive, but there was a certain feeling of detachment, just a hint, that made Kurt wonder if he was just as self-absorbed as he seemed. Blair liked to talk about himself. He talked about himself a lot, and his choir and his past school experiences. He went to an all-boys school with a very strict no-tolerance policy. His dad was the choral director there and he wished he could have a public school experience, but Kurt envied him for not having to be bullied every day. He'd known he was gay since he was three and he'd never looked back, and he'd had several boyfriends, which didn't help Kurt feel any better. During the movie Blair put his arm around him, and it was a lot less comfortable than they make it seem in the movies, but Kurt didn't complain.

And when the movie was over, Blair wanted to go out to ice cream. They went to an old diner/drug store called Watson's and ordered shakes and discussed the movie, among other things.

* * *

"Hello?" Sam held the phone to his ear as he pulled on a nice pair of jeans.

"He really likes you, you know."

Sam dropped his pants and grabbed the phone. "Who is this?"

"Blair Barks. We haven't met officially."

Weird.

"And how did you get this number?" He put the phone in his shoulder again and pulled his pants back up, buttoning them this time before letting go.

"That's beside the point, Sam. I know you like him back."

Sam shook his head. "I..." But he was tired of lying. "It doesn't matter. Why are you calling me?"

"I just want to let you know that you don't have to worry about him anymore. I know you care about him and you feel bad for not being able to be with him, but now that's taken care of. I want us to be friends, Sam. I'm letting you know I'm not your enemy, I'm helping you out."

"What-"

-click-

* * *

When Sam got to the Diner, his eyes automatically found Kurt, like they were pulled by a magnet. He didn't even know Kurt would be here. And he was sitting with that curly-haired creeper who had called him earlier. Was that what he'd meant? He was with Kurt now?

"Can we go somewhere else?"

Katrina Evans pouted. "But this is our tradition, Sammy! I was really in the mood for curly fries."

He sighed. The waiter sat them at a table far from the pair by the window, but he was still facing them. He was just glad Kurt's back was to him, he didn't want any uncomfortableness with him tonight. Besides, he was clearly on a date.

Katrina followed her son's gaze. "Are they friends of yours?" she asked, smiling.

"Um...sort of. I don't know the curly-haired one, but the short ones Kurt. Remember...I told you about him, Mom?"

She smiled, and studied his face, and looked back at Kurt, and looked back at Sam. "You like him," she said, sipping her water.

Sam looked down at the table. "I don't really want to talk about it right now," he said.

Katrina looked back toward Kurt, and Blair waved at her when Kurt wasn't looking. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Oh," she said. "Is he on a date?"

"Apparently."

* * *

Kurt was glowing. Blair was really a charmer, and he couldn't tell if he was trying really hard or if he just came by it naturally. He tried to keep his cool, and thought he was doing pretty well. He giggled - actually giggled - when Blair scooted closer in the semi-circle booth and held his hand. They had shakes - Kurt had chocolate and Blair had strawberry - and they talked about school and music and friends and movies.

"So, this is your first date?" Blair asked, grinning.

"Yes," Kurt said, a little embarrassed. "Well, not exactly. I went out with this girl in my class for a while because I wanted my Dad to relate to me..." Was that too much information?

Blair laughed. "Wow. What was it like?"

"What, being with a girl?"

Blair nodded.

Kurt shrugged. "Kind of boring, actually. It's nice to be close to someone, but when it's someone you have no feelings for it's really more awkward than anything."

"Oh." Blair let go of Kurt's hand.

Oh, no, he thinks I mean him. Kurt shook his head and moved closer to Blair, who smiled and leaned his head even closer. "Do you like me?" he asked. It baffled Kurt how Blair could just cut straight to the point like that.

"I... Yes," he said with a shy kind of smile. Blair ran a finger softly over Kurt's cheek.

"So, you've never kissed a boy before?"

Kurt's cheeks burned, which was answer enough for Blair. He smiled sweetly. "It's okay, don't be ashamed. Everyone has their first time some time."

Was he getting closer? He was definitely getting closer.

"And," he said, "I think..." Blair moved his hand under Kurt's chin, "...yours..." he slowly drew Kurt's face closer. Kurt's heart was pounding and his eyes were wide. "...is now."

When their lips touched, it sent tingles all through Kurt's body. They started at his lips and spread to the tips of his hair and the tips of his fingers and toes. He closed his eyes put his arms around Blair's waist.

Across the room, Sam stood up and walked out of the restaurant as quickly as he could without running. Out on the street, he drew deep breaths of cool air and tried to calm down, and his mother was at his side in seconds. "Let's go home, Sam," she said, with a light touch to his arm.

"I'll walk," he said.

"Sam, it's miles."

He turned around. "Please Mom." She saw the look in his eyes and nodded, and got into her car and drove away.

* * *

**an:** so...there we have it, Kurt's first boy-kiss :)  
please leave a review and let me know what you think, as well as any suggestions!  
seriously, reader feedback helps me so much. I want to write a story _you_ like!


	11. ten

"How many times do I have to tell you to mind your own damn business, Quinn?"

She was pulling the same old passive-aggressive shit that she'd been pulling for almost two months. He was halfway to wishing he could hit her, but he could never bring himself to that point (for which he was glad). So he shouted at her.

He shouted at her a lot these days, and she always shouted back. "And how many times did you cheat on me with that little-" She stopped herself and took a deep breath, remembering that they were in a public place and it wasn't Kurt she hated.

"_Cheated_ on you?" He glared daggers at her, holding himself back. "I _never_ cheated, Quinn, and you know it." The other Glee club members began trickling in, rolling their eyes at the scene in front of them. It was nothing new, these two were always fighting.

Quinn crossed her arms and said, more quietly, "Thinking is cheating, Sam."

Sam laughed, furious. "_'Thinking is cheating, Sam,'_" he mocked. "Thinking is cheating? I guess you'd be the one to know about cheating, huh?"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Puck placed himself in between them, glaring at Sam. "You know that wasn't her fault, man, you know it was all me, so leave her the hell alone. You know, I thought you were a good guy, Sam. I thought you were better, but now you're making _me_ look like a saint."

Sam's face immediately flushed. He knew it was true. A few months ago he'd never have raised his voice at a woman, least of all in front of his entire class. Now it had become almost a daily ritual. _Puck is right. What have I turned into?_ He couldn't believe he'd let Quinn push him so far.

It had become her favorite pastime. Ever since she'd found out his little not-secret, she'd been subtly nudging him toward the edge of his tolerance. Asking him if this or that guy was attractive, asking questions about his past relationships that were _way_ too personal. He'd slowly started to realize that he'd made a mistake in trying to hold on to her and preserve their relationship.

It was Kurt's advice that had finally pushed him over that edge. "Look, Sam, it's pretty obvious it's not working," he'd said in passing. "So just spare us all the drama and break up with her."

_Easy for him to say,_ he thought. Kurt had been in an odd but working relationship for over a month at the time. He and Blair had an interesting dynamic - their personalities were quite similar and clashed often, but they somehow managed to make it work.

So Sam had broken it off, and in a way, he was relieved. He knew she still wouldn't say anything about his sexuality, at least not outright spill what had become his little secret, but they were still hostile toward one another, and increasingly so. He knew it wasn't all her fault, that she'd been hurt and this was just how she was reacting. What hurt him the most, though, was that there was still love there. There was still some small part of himself that wanted to be with her and cared for her, and he knew she felt the same. But they wouldn't, and couldn't. Something between them had snapped and it would probably never be fully repaired.

So he'd tried to make it friendly, and it hadn't worked. So instead he'd given up on holding back, and Quinn had inadvertently become his verbal punching bag for all the things going wrong in his life.

He stood now in the choir room, looking from Puck to Quinn to Kurt and a few of the other members, before hanging his head and walking out of the room.

"Hey guys," Mr. Schue said as he came in. He looked around and marked the roll sheet. "Where's Sam?" he asked.

"I think he had an appointment with Miss Pillsbury," Kurt said.

The past two months had been a roller coaster full of extreme ups and downs.

Not just for Sam and Quinn, either. Finn and Rachel had their daily dramas, but had somehow managed to make it this far without killing one another. Mr. Schuester dated the substitute teacher for a while, but now she's gone and he's still hung up on Miss Pillsbury, who is still with her hot dentist. Mike and Tina broke it off a while ago, but now Artie's got himself a set of abs and a cheerleader girlfriend, so he couldn't care less. Mercedes had a new boyfriend, a pitcher on St. Martin's baseball team. They'd met a few weeks before at a game and hit it off, and he'd given her strep throat, so she was out for a few weeks, putting a huge strain on New Directions to make up for her absence as well as not get sick. Jesse St. James has been back, as well, making a play for Rachel's attentions and thoroughly pissing Finn off. In the mean time, Rachel and Quinn have formed a sort of uneasy friendship. So have Sam and Kurt, but it's not the same as it once was. Every time he sees Kurt, he feels like his heart is breaking just a little more. Sunshine Corazon left Vocal Adrenaline because she didn't like the way she treated her, and wanted to just have fun. She's now back in rehearsal with New Directions, but she can't officially join again until next semester, which means she won't be able to perform at Regionals. Beth's adoptive mother and Quinn and Puck all had a meeting so that they could see Beth. Sam tagged along, because that was back when he and Quinn were still going out, but it was nothing but awkward. That's when the big troubles in their relationship started. He suspected Quinn of cheating on him with Puck around this time, but it's never been confirmed or completely denied. And on top of all of this, despite winning first place at Sectionals, New Directions is under some serious pressure to do well this year at regionals, adding a big heaping of stress onto everyones' plates. And that's what you missed, on _Glee!_

**_

* * *

_**

**an:** So what do you think? sorry the ending's a bit lame, I really just couldn't think of how to add this all in without making it a complete run-on. so, this was meant to go longer, but I think I'll be going back to short chapters, so that you can read them faster! :) okay, leave some reviews, and thanks for reading!


	12. eleven

Kurt let out a soft little moan against Blair's lips. Blair smiled.

They lay on Blair's king-size bed, in Blair's huge bedroom in his huge house. Kurt loved the house, with its columns in the front and the fragrant garden in the back yard. Not to mention, of course, lying on Blair's bed with him, sharing secrets or watching movies or doing just what they were doing now. He touched Blair's face and felt Blair's smile against his lips, and his heartbeat went a little faster as he felt Blair's hand move slowly down his stomach and lift up his shirt and roam around his stomach and chest.

He moaned again. He didn't mean to, he really couldn't help it, and every time Blair nearly laughed at him. He slid his hand down again, this time looping his fingers in Kurt's waistband, but Kurt pulled his hand away like he always did.

"Kurt," he said, pulling away.

"Hm?"

Blair sighed. "Is this ever gonna happen?"

Kurt decided to play dumb. "Is what going to happen?" He shifted beneath Blair, trying to get comfortable again, and he laid his hand on the side of Blair's face, wishing he'd start kissing him again.

"I think you know," said Blair. "Me, you, having sex."

Kurt's cheeks burned. "We've only been going out for two months," he said. Blair rolled his eyes and rolled over on his back. "I'm not really used to not getting any when I'm with someone, Kurt," he said. Kurt propped himself up on his elbow. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just...I'm just not ready yet."

Blair looked away, and stood up and pulled his shirt back on. Kurt couldn't see his face, but he knew he was upset. He felt bad, but he couldn't make himself do something he wasn't ready for. He supposed he should be ready, but something kept telling him no. "Blair," he said, with a definite pout in his voice.

Blair cleared his throat, put a smile on his face, and turned around. "It's fine, sweetie. I don't want to rush you or anything. But it makes me feel like..." He bit his lip.

_Don't fall for it, don't fall for his act, Kurt. Don't._ "...Like what?" Kurt winced internally. He knew Blair was just putting on theatrics, but every time he gave into whatever his boyfriend wanted.

"Like...like I'm not good enough for you." He sat back down on the bed, and Kurt put his arms around him and kissed his cheek.

"You know that's not true."

Blair smiled and gave him a kiss.

* * *

"Shit."

Sam was leaning over the open hood of his truck, black grease up to his elbows, trying to find the source of the oil leak that had been plaguing him for the past few weeks.

"I'm so telling Mom," said Marissa.

He hadn't known she was standing behind him. "Sorry, Missy, I didn't mean it."

"Still telling." She smiled.

He rolled his eyes and turned around. "What do you want?"

"Take me with you."

"Where?"

"Take me with you when you go to get your truck fixed."

"I wasn't planning on -"

"You'll need to. I mean, you _know_ you can't fix it yourself, right?"

He knew. He knew, but he didn't want to go to the shop, because the only shop he knew of belonged to the father of the current unrequited love of his life. "Why do you want to go anyway? It's not going to be fun."

She shrugged. "It's super boring here," she said. She was texting one of her friends as well as talking to him, which he found extremely annoying.

"Okay," he said. "Tell mom we're leaving." He wiped his hands on an old towel, closed Esther's hood, and climbed in.

* * *

He hadn't really been thinking of what he was wearing when he'd headed toward Burt's, but he wished he had been, because here he was in a dirty tank top with greasy hands and probably grease in his hair, and there was Kurt, looking perfect as usual with his pretty boyfriend. He wasn't sure why they'd be here, but he didn't ask, he just passed right by them and headed toward Mr. Hummel.

"Sam, right?" Burt asked, shaking his hand.

"Yes, sir," he said. He'd met Mr. Hummel only briefly when he and Kurt were still on good terms. "And ah, this is my little sister Marissa."

Missy smiled. "Are you Burt?"

Mr. Hummel smiled too. "Sure am."

"So you're _the_ Burt. Like, as in Burt's Garage?"

He laughed. "Yes, and it's nice to meet you, Marissa."

She smiled and turned to Sam. "Can I get a soda from the vending machine?"

He rolled his eyes, but dug in his pocket and handed her a dollar.

"So what's the problem, kid?"

Sam told him.

"Ah," Burt said, nodding. "Well, pull 'er up and we'll take a look."

Sam pulled his truck in, and Burt had one of the mechanics take a look. He didn't do much of the work himself, ever since his heart attack. It was around the same time Sam had dislocated his shoulder. In fact, he'd heard they were on the same floor of the same hospital, but their paths never crossed. Sam was glad to see he was much better.

He tried, but he couldn't keep himself from glancing over at Kurt and Blair, who were holding hands and laughing and stealing kisses when they thought Burt wasn't looking. But he was.

"You know," he said, eyeing the curly-haired boy, "I'm not so sure I like that Blair kid. What do you think?"

Sam swallowed. He knew how he felt about Blair. _I hate him, he's horrible for Kurt, he's a creep._

"I, uh...I don't know..." he said, hanging his head.

Burt narrowed his eyebrows at him. "You know something I don't?"

Sam glanced back at the couple, and looked back at Mr. Hummel. He swallowed again. "Can I...can I talk to you, Mr. Hummel? In...private?"

Burt led the way into his office, and gestured for Sam to sit down. He did, and Mr. Hummel sat across the desk from him. "What's up?"

Sam bit his lip.

"Okay. Okay..." He didn't know where to begin, or why he wanted to tell Mr. Hummel this at all, other than that he wanted to get it off his chest and he felt Burt might be understanding. "I...hope you don't take this the wrong way Mr. Hummel," he said. "But I..."

"Come on, Sam. You know you can tell me whatever's on your mind."

Sam nodded, and started again.

"I...think I'm in love with your son, Mr. Hummel."

Burt leaned back in his chair, and he looked like he was both shocked to silence and looking for something to say next.

_Shit,_ Sam thought. _That was a mistake._

"I mean...um..."

Burt shook his head, like shaking his thoughts clear.

"Does he know?"

Sam looked down at his lap. "He thinks I'm straight."

"And...you're not."

"No! No, I've known I'm bisexual since I was...well I don't know. Since a couple years ago I guess. I had to leave my old school because I was...bullied so much. It was _really_ bad."

Burt shook his head. "I'm really sorry about that, Sam. The world can be cruel." And boy did he know it.

Sam cleared his throat.

"So I kind of...almost made a move on him," he said, feeling awkward talking to Kurt's dad about this, but who else was there? "A couple months ago. But he thought I was playing a cruel joke, and now he hates me."

They sat in silence for a while, Burt looking out the window at his son and his son's boyfriend. Sam had almost never felt so awkward in his life. Should he really have just spilled all this?

"So tell him."

Sam looked up. "What?"

Burt shrugged.

"If you like him, then tell him. He likes you too, Sam. He used to talk about you a lot, before _he_ came along. Like I said, I'm not crazy about Blair. I think Kurt could do a lot better, Sam. I'd much rather see him with someone like...you. You know, honest. You seem like a nice kid."

Sam smiled, but it quickly faded. "I don't think he'd believe me."

Burt shook his head. "You just gotta find a creative way of doing it. I know my son," he said. "You glee kids like music, right?"

Sam nodded.

"Well maybe you should... sing it."

Sam smiled, and this time, it stuck.

* * *

**an:** alright, I hope you guys enjoyed this :) more to come soon! please leave a review, because it really helps motivate me when I know what you think of my writing! criticism helps, seriously. if there's something you're not liking, let me know and I'll see what I can do, and if there's something you want to see, I'd love to hear your ideas! thanks for reading! (:


	13. twelve

Winter break had never seemed so long, and it was only in its first week.

Sam was trying, she could tell. So, as much as it felt like admitting defeat, she tried, too. It was hard, letting go of anger and spite but she'd learned to do it once, and she could learn to do it again. Quinn Fabray may once have been queen bitch at William McKinley High School, but she'd promised herself those days were over, and they would be. No more manipulation, no more fights with Sam, no more being jealous of Rachel and Finn's relationship, or casting steely glares toward Kurt, who hadn't done anything wrong in the first place.

Quinn had turned her life around once, and she was going to do it again. She may be emotionally unstable and she may be depressed and she may never love again, but she was going to be nice, she was going to stop getting so defensive every time someone looked at her the wrong way.

And, she knew it wasn't Sam's fault. He hadn't been her breaking point. Neither had Finn, nor Puck, though she'd loved them all in their own times. Beth had broken her. Beth had been that final blow, the last piece taken from the Jenga puzzle, and her life had been teetering on the edge of absolute destruction for a while. She'd told herself then, too, that she wouldn't let herself fall into such a trap again.

But then there was Sam, and as hard as she'd tried to resist him, as much as she'd tried to convince herself he was a creep when they sang that first solo together, when he'd held her hand and she'd shaken him off, she knew he was just being sweet, and he just liked her, and eventually she fell, and liked him too. She loved him, too, and for a while, he was her everything, just as she'd promised no one else would ever be.

So why should she have been so surprised when things with Sam turned sour? It wasn't his fault, it was her own. She should have known happiness didn't come cheap. She should've handled it better, she should've, should've, should've.

But should'ves don't get you anywhere, and Quinn was learning this as time went on.

* * *

Sam was having a hard time.

Not just with choosing the right song, though that was difficult.

He was having a hard time pretending to be happy, pretending to be normal. He was having a hard time being patient. He was having a hard time waiting for the right time to tell Kurt his feelings.

Right now, Sam was having a hard time concentrating on Santana, who lay on her bed below him, running her hand over his abs and his stomach, the other finding its way into his pants to squeeze his ass. Though his lips were on hers and his hand was on her breast, he was hardly paying attention to the way her skin felt against his skin or the way she moved her body to fit with his. He just couldn't, his mind wasn't in the moment. He sighed against her lips and made to move away. "Don't stop," she whispered against his lips, moving her hand around to his back, pulling him closer to her.

He pulled away.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?"

She was pissed. Santana wasn't used to not getting her way with boys. Sam shook his head, sitting up on the other side of the bed. She sat up, too. "Look...are you worried about protection? Because I have tons."

"No, I just..."

Santana rolled her eyes and pointed toward the door. "Just get out."

Sam picked up his shirt and shoes off the floor, and hesitated in the doorway. "It's not you," he said. "I"m...sorry."

* * *

"Look, I'm sorry, but I'm not giving up dinner with my family to see your play." Kurt was sitting across from Blair at a small cafe in the mall, having what seemed like a variant to the same argument he always had with Blair. "Surely there's another performance I can go to?"

"It's just another dinner, Kurt," Blair said, pushing away his half-eaten beignet. "I told you Friday would be the best performance. Don't you want to see me at my best?"

Kurt rolled his eyes.

"You know, I really thought we had talked about this, Blair. I thought I was clear when I said I will never make plans with you on a Friday evening, and I _thought_ you understood why."

Blair narrowed his eyes.

"This is about Sam, isn't it? You're still in love with him, so you're trying to slowly weasel your way out of being with me."

Kurt made a gesture of exasperation. "Are you fucking serious. How does Sam have to do with _anything_."

Blair leaned uncomfortably close over the table. "Just answer the question."

"No!" Kurt stood. "No, I'm not going to answer your question. You're being ridiculous, we've been over this, and I'm not going to sit here while you berate me like a child over a stupid question you already know the answer to." His hands shook a little, but he balled them up into fists and walked away.

Blair looked to the sky, running a hand through his hair. He knew he was a bitch sometimes, he knew he was unreasonable, but he couldn't help it. He had a massive jealous streak. He could say it ran in his family, based on how his parents' marriage had ended up, but he knew that'd just be a cop-out.

He could only think of one thing that would make him feel better.

* * *

"I thought we were going to be friends, Sam."

Sam was startled at first at being approached so suddenly and directly. He was standing in line at a walk-up burger joint with a list in his hand - dinner orders for his family - and hadn't realized anyone he knew was there. He turned around and saw the last face he wanted to see right then.

"Blair." He raised his eyebrows, keeping his face plain in an attempt to intimidate the boy. No cigar.

Blair was smiling in an odd, forced way. Sam put his hand in his pocket and waited for Blair to speak. "But now I hear you're making moves on my boyfriend."

He smiled and shook his head. "You must have the wrong guy, Blair. After all, I thought we were _friends_." _How did he even find me?_

The curly-haired boy gave a harsh laugh, before drawing himself up to his full height. It wasn't so much is stature that was intimidating, but his confidence. Sam looked around and let the people behind him in line pass.

"What do you want, Blair?"

"I want this over." He gestured dramatically, giving a little stomp with his foot, and he was a little too close for Sam's liking.

"I'm gonna have to ask you to back up," Sam warned. He may be a nice guy, but he was not okay with people getting up in his face, and he had a lot of pent-up rage and misguided emotion that was begging to get out. But Blair just gave him an annoying half-smirk and, quicker than Sam knew what was happening, shoved him backward into a table. Dude was stronger than he looked.

"You didn't want to do that, man," Sam said, straightening up and giving Blair a sharp shove on the shoulders.

* * *

**an:** sorry guys, I know you're all very anxious for it, but you'll have to wait a bit longer for Sam's love confession.  
I'll give you a little hint as to what's in store for the next couple chapters, though.  
there's going to be a big party for New Year's Eve, so I need a little help.  
what are some of your New Years traditions? what are some resolutions you think the Glee kids should be making this year?  
who would host the best New Year's eve party? etc, etc.  
I'm also always open to song suggestions, or anything else you want to see happen in this story. It's winding down, so hurry and have your opinions heard!  
again, thanks so much for reading, I really do love you all, and leave me some reviews! 3


	14. thirteen

It wasn't that Sam intimidated him.

It wasn't that he was throwing a diva fit over receiving his first black eye. It was his fault, after all, he had initiated the fight, but he hadn't really expected Sam to fight him back.

And damn, did that guy have an arm.

At least he'd been able to escape with part of his dignity intact.

But that was the end of it.

He was sick of this shit.

Sick of having arguments daily, sick of feeling like a douchebag just for wanting to get his way. He was sick of not getting his way, not getting any ass, and not being the charming spotlight hog in the relationship.

This was the end.

* * *

Christmas Eve came quickly, but not quickly enough. Sam was excited for Christmas, as usual, but some of the appeal had gone out of it. Is love really supposed to make everything else more miserable? He'd always heard it the other way around. When you're in love everything's brighter, peoples' eyes take on a certain shine and your skin starts to glow and you can't stop smiling.

Maybe that's how it worked, if the object of your affections felt the same way.

_Wait. Am I even in love? Am I just jumping to conclusions?_

He'd never felt this way before.

He and his family had been invited to Christmas Eve service at Quinn's church, the First United Methodist's Church of Lima. He got into the family van, dressed in his good gray suit, worn leather hand-me-down bible in hand. He had on one of his dad's ties for the event, a festive red striped one, and he was trying not to feel sick to his stomach at the thought of seeing Quinn's folks again. Surely they hated him, now.

The church was nice. It was one of those older ones, brick on the outside, with wooden pews and crosses and those colorful flags. His family filed into a pew with the Fabrays, and he ended up next to Quinn. "Hi," he said, managing a smile.

"Merry Christmas," she said, smiling warmly. He was amazed at the change in her, but he suspected it was inspired in part by the change in himself. It was nice to have some semblance of friendship between them, even if they both knew things would never be the same.

He'd never been to a Methodist church before, and he thought it was nice, but he didn't exactly agree with some of the service. Since when had God become a 'He or She'? He was pretty sure God was genderless, and people just called Him a 'He' because it was easier, but he made no comment. His favorite part of the service was when, at the end, everyone held hands and said a prayer. Quinn smiled at him and he squeezed her hand. He said his own little prayer in his head. _Thank You for Christmas and pretty churches and friends and forgiveness and...stuff._

* * *

"Kurt!"

Kurt groaned and turned over. He hadn't gotten much sleep. His eyes still felt scratchy and his lips felt swollen. Why even cry? Why was he so upset? It's not like he didn't see it coming, and he was relieved in a way.

"Dude, get up, it's Christmas!"

Finn's voice grated in his ears. _Is it too much to just want silence?_

Finn rolled his eyes. "Okay, seriously, I don't want to have to tackle you, but I will."

Kurt groaned again, more loudly this time, and threw the blanket off of himself. Even sleeping, he looked fashionable. He wore a satiny top and bottom set in a powder blue color. Finn had to keep himself from laughing at Kurt's usually perfect hair, sticking up in the back. Kurt stood and put his hands on his hips. "You're going to have to give me a minute."

"No can do, bro. Christmas morning festivities are attended in bed-head and wrinkled pajamas."

Kurt blinked.

"Finn, I think that was the most well-spoken sentence I've ever heard you utter." His morning voice was a bit croaky.

Finn shrugged. "I sort of practiced it."

Kurt smiled. He supposed he could make an exception just this once. It was his first Christmas with his new mish-mash family, after all. He stepped into his slippers and shuffled into the living room. The tree was small, but it was nice, and it had more ornaments on it than it ever had. Kurt and his dad had never been especially big on Christmas, but they'd always gotten a tree and exchanged gifts.

Finn was smiling like...well, like a kid on Christmas morning. He handed out gifts and sat down on the floor at his mom's feet. Kurt wasn't sure he'd ever seen him so excited - not since he'd gone to second base with Rachel.

Finn opened Kurt's present first. He grinned.

"Two tickets to a Buckeye game," Kurt informed him, smiling. "You can take whoever you want...but preferably not me." Finn laughed, and opened his next gift - a new set of drumsticks from his mom.

Kurt and Carole got matching scarves from Burt. "I...wasn't sure, I couldn't find another one I liked. I hope you don't mind matching," he said, when Carole opened hers.

She smiled. "Thank you, sweetie," she said, leaning over and kissing him.

Kurt got a Target gift card from Finn - "I wasn't...sure what you'd want, so..." - and Kurt and Finn had pitched in on the only thing they could think of getting Burt: a coffee mug with a picture of the two of them. They _almost_ looked like brothers. Burt cleared his throat. It wouldn't look so great if he started tearing up. He gathered his family up into a hug.

"Dad, you're squishing me."

Burt squeezed tighter.

* * *

The party was at Artie's house this year.

"Artie Party!" he said high-fiving and hand-shaking as a big group of people surged through his door. "Hey hey hey!" He bumped fists with Finn as he entered with Kurt and Rachel.

"There's dranks in the kitchen and skanks on the stairs."

Sam laughed as he came in, messing up Artie's hair. The music was on full blast, the lights were low and someone had invested in disco lighting.

The annual New Year's Eve party was a huge event in Lima, spanning across all the schools and colleges in the district. Sam had no idea how Artie had been chosen to host this year, or how he was pulling it off with his parents, but there were no adults to be seen. Everyone attending pitched in, and the lights and party effects were recycled every year. Most of the people in this town might be Lima losers, but they knew how to party. Everyone was there.

It was the one time during the year that people forgot social status and just danced all night. The lights flashed, the music deafened, the air was hot. Kids smoked, everyone drank, most abused illegal substances. At one point during the night, Sam found himself laughing hysterically at the idea of what Coach Sylvester would think if she could 'C' this.

Kurt was happy. It felt good to let go and dance. When Blair entered, he didn't see him. When suddenly he was dancing next to Sam, he just kept dancing. They threw their hands up in the air, they sang along, they danced and danced and danced until their bodies ached, and they danced some more, and when the countdown began, they ran outside with noisemakers and cracker and silly string and shouted and whooped and popped their poppers. There were kisses and hugs and "HAPPY NEW YEAR!"s all around, and hours later, as the party wound down and the sun started peeking over the trees and rooftops, he found himself barely awake on the couch on the front lawn, with Kurt laying at the other end and, out of it as he was, he couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of their legs touching and their bodies keeping each other warm. He looked around. There was trash and streamers and silly string everywhere, along with barely breathing bodies on the porch and the roof and inside the house. It was quiet, except for birds singing and sprinklers turning on. He could see his breath.

He sat up so he was leaning over gently snoring Kurt, conflicted. _Don't wake him up._

_No, wake him up and tell him how you feel._

_No, stick to the plan, the plan is good._

_But his lips are so...there, and he looks so sweet, and I..._

_What if he wakes up and freaks out._

_Just..._

He looked around again before leaning down and leaving a little kiss on Kurt's soft cheek.

And then he walked the few blocks to his house, a smile on his face that he couldn't get rid of, actually looking forward to coming back and helping clean up the mess.

* * *

**an:** okay...well hope that was satisfactory, for now :) please let me know what you thought, if you have any suggestions, etc., etc. you knowwwww :)


	15. fourteen

"_Samson Cameron Evans!_"

Sam grinned and set down the frosting can, leaning up against the kitchen counter and putting his frosting-covered finger in his mouth. His mother rolled her eyes at him and went back to frosting cupcakes. It was one of those random occasions she decided to bake for no reason. He _loved_ those days. Today it was white cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. His favorite. He stole a warm, freshly frosted cupcake off the counter, kissed her on the cheek, and walked off as she half yelled at him and half laughed.

His sister was watching TV on the couch, one of those Disney shows he secretly loved. "Missy, come here a minute," he said, mouth full of cupcake. She rolled her eyes at him, but followed him into his room, where he wiped his hands on his jeans and picked up his guitar. She took a seat on his bed - recently upgraded to a queen size when their mother found out his feet hung off the end of the twin - and listened as he told her what he needed.

_You are the daydream in my eyes, there whenever I wake up  
__But the colors never crystalize, and I never get enough  
__Why do you kiss everybody but me, I just sit back and watch  
__Oh, but one day soon I'm gonna grab you by the collar  
__And kiss you all I want!_

_I can love you much better,  
__If you can't see it you're blind  
__I can love you much better,  
__Oh you know some day I'm gonna make you mine_

He smiled as he finished, looking to Marissa for her opinion. She looked thoughtful for a moment, before shaking her head, and he sighed and sat down on the bed, setting his guitar beside him. "What's wrong with it?"

She took a deep breath, and he knew he was in for it. He probably shouldn't have asked for her help, but who else was there?

"Okay, so," she began. "First off, it's way too upbeat. You need a song that expresses your _feelings_, and from what you said this doesn't sound like it. It needs to be more calmer and more like, I don't know... Not about how you're gonna win him some day. I mean, have you even _seen_ Aladdin? People don't like being prizes." Sam had to laugh a little. Marissa got most of her 'wisdom' from Disney movies, but he knew she was right. The song was too _Hey I'm going to take you and you're going to like it._

He sighed again and lay back on the bed, and she started stroking his hair. It was an endearing habit she'd had since she was a baby and hadn't yet dropped, and it sort of calmed him. It told him that it would be okay, and he'd find the right song. "So what do I do?"

She shrugged. "Look in your heart."

_How are you so smart, sis?_

* * *

Over the winter break, he'd found himself a job. He was still paying off the bill for the repairs to his truck a few months back, and he was eating a hole in his small savings just buying gas. It wasn't the most glamorous job, but he figured it wasn't the worst, either. He was a waiter at the Denny's around the corner from McKinley. He'd been working there about a week now, and they were kind enough to adjust to his school schedule.

Which, speaking of, was starting again tomorrow, and he was anything but prepared. He'd promised to himself that he wouldn't delay, but here it was, the night before, and as he cleared the dishes off another table, he was thinking about the right song, which continued to elude him. He actually had several in mind, but he wanted it to be _perfect_.

"Sam," said Dylan, his manager, "Get the register."

"Sure," he said, rinsing his hands before heading to the front of the restaurant. Of course, the person there broke all his concentration - momentarily, at least. He broke into a wide smile. "Puckerone!" he said, performing one of those manly half-handshake half-hug things. Puck was there with a random girl. He was always with a random girl. Sam didn't even know there were that many hot girls in this town, but Puck always seemed to find them. This one looked a bit older than Puck and himself, but he thought nothing of it and led Puck to a booth.

"So got yourself a job now, eh lady lips?" Sam grimaced internally. He _hated_ that name. It always made him feel cold and sticky, like the first time he'd ever heard him. _Not_ a pleasant experience, but Puck would never let up, and he knew it. "Fancy."

Sam smiled. "Pays the bills." He set the menus and silverware rolls down on the table. "Need a kiddie menu, Puck?" He grinned.

"Yeah," Puck said, matter-of-factly, "and bring one for the lady, too."

Sam laughed and headed off, and came back with kids menus and crayons. "You know, I told you I'd hire you in my pool cleaning business," Puck said, picking up a crayon and immediately drawing filthy things on the children's menu.

Sam laughed. "You don't expect me to believe _all_ you do is scoop leaves out of pools." His face fell as he realized what he'd just said, a moment too late. _Shit. I probably shouldn't have said that in front of his date...or whatever._ But she started laughing, and Puck looked unfazed. Maybe she was a customer of his? "Besides," he said, "I don't think the two dollars an hour you'd pay me would be quite enough." He smiled again. "Uh, so Jenny will be your server," he said, gesturing at a girl in the back with big hair and too much makeup.

When they were leaving, Puck stopped and chatted with Sam some more, ending with a smile and a fist bump and a "You're alright, man."

Sam smiled uneasily. "Hope you still think so after tomorrow," he said quietly, but Puck heard him, and turned back around.

"What's tomorrow?" he asked, with the usual blank expression.

Sam shook his head. "You just might...find out something that'll make you like me less."

Puck surprised him by grinning. "Look, I know you're totally gay for me, and it's okay." Sam laughed. "Just try not to stare at my ass to much when I walk out. You might freak out the other customers." He clapped Sam on the shoulder and turned and left, but not without putting a little extra sway in his hips for Sam's benefit. Sam laughed and shook his head.

* * *

The drive home was when it hit him, that perfect song he'd been in search of, and all the time it had been right in front of him - or rather, in his glove compartment. He'd taken out the old cassette tape and put it in to listen to on the car ride home. It was an old mix of country songs his dad made when he was a kid. He couldn't help but smile and feel his heartbeat pick up just a little. This was _it_.

* * *

**an:** alright guys, I really hope you've enjoyed it, and I'm very sorry it took me so long to update! there's more to come very soon, my brain's a flutter with good Sam thoughts :) this next one may or may not be the last chapter...but if it is, not to worry! I'm considering continuing this in a sequel. so, let me know what you think, and whether you'd want me to continue. leave reviews! (:


	16. fifteen

Sam chewed on his lip on the way to school. It was sleeting - a perfect, icky mixture of snow and rain that reminded him far too much of a slushie. Except a flavorless slushie falling from the sky for ten hours straight. He shouldn't be driving like this, on the icy roads with his heart beating out of his chest, even with the brand new tire chains he'd bought last week. The sky was gray, and usually he found this kind of weather beautiful, but this morning it just seemed foreboding.

He couldn't help but look around for Kurt's SUV as soon as he pulled into the parking lot, but he didn't see it. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and climbed out of his truck and looked around, distracted for a moment by the coldness on his face and puffs of steam in the air when he breathed. He rubbed his hands together and started walking toward the front doors of William McKinley High School. That's when he saw him.

That small figure at the sidewalk, getting out of a shiny black car. He was dressed in a fancy plaid rain coat, and leaned back into the car - to grab his bag or...something - before closing the door behind him and moving so Sam could see the driver through the passenger window. _No._

He started walking fast toward the car, and it didn't take him long to get there.

"Hey, Sam," said Kurt, but he ignored him and leaned up against the car, sticking his head into the window. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Kurt answered. "He...Sam, he was just giving me a ride."

Sam couldn't keep the hostility out of his eyes as he turned to look at Kurt, who, despite all his usual self-assurance, seemed to shrink under Sam's harsh gaze. "I don't like driving in this weather," he said, his voice smaller than usual.

Sam shook his head, adopting a kinder look. "Why didn't you ask me?"

Kurt's face softened as well, and he placed a mittened hand gently on Sam's arm. "Sam...didn't you know?"

His eyes hardened to ice again as he looked back at Blair, who was looking between the two of them in a sort of amused way. "How many black eyes do I have to give you before you get the hint to _stay the fuck away from him_?" he growled.

Kurt's eyes went wide. "_You_ did that?"

"I'd like to point out," said Blair, "That you never actually told me to stay away from him."

"I'm telling you now."

"You really don't have a say in the matter." Blair's little smirk was infuriating, and Sam had to hold himself back from opening the door and dragging the kid out of the car and beating him to a bloody pulp on the sidewalk. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to be late to _my_ school. I'll see you later, sweetheart," he added to Kurt, blowing a kiss before driving off quite too fast for state of the road.

"How could you go back with him?" Sam was still angry, but he tried to cool it off. It wasn't really Kurt he was angry at, anyway. At least, he didn't _think_ so.

"I really don't see why you'd care," Kurt said, tightening his grip on his books and starting to walk into the school.

Sam followed. "I thought...I thought we were _friends_, Kurt."

Kurt turned around abruptly, a fire of his own in his eyes. "Really, Sam? Because I'm pretty sure last time I checked, friends don't punch their friends' boyfriends in the face." He pivoted on his heel and stormed off down the hall, and Sam kicked the nearest locker so hard he dented it.

* * *

Well, this pretty much killed his plans. In Spanish class, he crumpled his sheet music into a ball and threw it into the nearest wastebasket, not bothering to pick it up when it bounced off the rim and fell to the floor. He tried to concentrate on his work - Lord knew he needed all the help he could get in Spanish - but it was useless. There was a burning in the back of his eyes and throat that told him he wanted to cry, but he _couldn't_, not here in front of his entire class.

"Are you feeling alright, Sam?" Mr. Schue asked, and Sam jerked out of his angry daydream (something about ripping Blair's skin off and feeding it to zombies - he had to stop playing Nazi Zombies so late at night, that shit was messing with his brain), and Sam just shook his head. "Do you need to step out for a minute, or go see the nurse?" Sam blinked a few times, then nodded, and left the room.

He wasn't sure where he'd go, or if he wanted to go _anywhere_. He leaned up against a wall, put his face in his hands, and slid down into a slumped sitting position. He held himself together enough to not cry, but he knew he could. He knew any little thing might tip his emotional balance.

"Um, excuse me..." said a familiar voice to his right, but when he looked he could see no one. The voice was coming from the direction of the stairs. "I can hear you up there..." it said. "Do you think you could help me out? Hello?"

Sam stood up and headed toward the stairs, only to find Artie balanced precariously on the staircase, unable to move in his wheelchair. "Oh, Sam, thank God it's you," he said, giving a little forced smile.

"Who did this?" Sam asked, dropping his bag at the top of the stairs and going to help Artie. He grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and hoisted him up the stairs, careful not to drop it or tip Artie out.

"Karofsky. I may be on the football team now, but apparently the puckheads have declared themselves the new rulers of the school," he explained. "Thanks. I've been there for at least fifteen minutes waiting for someone to come by."

Sam smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. "What are friends for?"

Artie smiled a real smile this time. "I would've tried to get out myself, except I'm pretty sure I would have fallen. They've had a lot of practice figuring out how to put my chair just so..." He trailed off, starting to wheel himself off down the hall, and Sam grabbed his bag and followed. "So, what are you doing out of class?"

"I was um...just getting some fresh air," Sam said. "It's been a rough day. What class do you have next?" He was pushing Artie now, toward one of the new handicap accessible ramps Coach Sylvester had had put in last year.

* * *

Sam didn't make it back to Spanish class that day.

He was feeling a little guilty as Mr. Schue asked him how he was feeling in glee club later in the day. "A little better," he lied, gazing emptily at the piano and the untouched guitar in the corner. Right about now he should be using those to prove his love to Kurt Hummel. He probably still could, but there were a few things Sam Evans could never be, and one was a cheater. No matter how he disliked Blair, he wasn't about to steal his boyfriend.

_No matter how much better I am for Kurt..._

He shook his head and tried to pay attention to Mr. Schue talking about crescendos, but it wasn't much use, and he found his concentration drifting to the whispered conversation being carried a few seats away from him.

"So he asked you to take him back?"

"Mhm." Sam could almost hear the smile in Kurt's voice.

"And you said yes."

"Mhm."

For some reason, Sam thought Mercedes didn't sound very happy for her best friend. Sam wasn't much of the scheming type, but he filed that bit of information away, just in case it proved useful in any future dastardly plans involving the take down of Blair Barks.

* * *

**an:** so, new plan.  
I've got a whole new sequel to this lovely story brewing in my head, but in order to make it work the way I want, I'm extending this by a few chapters, just until probably around the end of the school year or the end of summer. sorry guys! you'll just have to keep waiting for the moment I know you want most! I will try to make this go by quickly, though, no more than three to five more chapters, if I can help it. I know it's kind of cruel torture, but I am _sure_ it'll end up being worth it once you get to see what the sequel will involve!

so anyway, please leave me some reviews, and give me some ideas for what should happen within the next few months of the Glee kids' lives! if there are any special requests, prompts, characters you'd like to see, _anything_, I'd be more than happy to try to incorporate what you want into the wind-down of this story. I'm also thinking of doing some exploratory oneshots into the lives and personalities of other Glee members, probably starting with either Kurt, Quinn, or Puck. what do you think?

oh, one more little thing. I'm very sorry for any mistakes in this, I noticed a few in the last couple chapters, but they're usually just small things like typos or the subconscious misuse of the words to and too. I'm sure you know what I mean, and understand that it's more important to me to move on with the story than to go back and try to correct all the little things. thanks so much for sticking with it this far!


	17. sixteen

She'd never really thought much about the new kid. _Well,_ she thought, _I guess he's not the new kid anymore._

Sam was nice. He smiled at her when he saw her during passing period, and he'd defended her a couple times when someone called her Columbo or Sheniqua. But other than these few interactions. all she knew about him was based on what other people told her. Mostly Kurt, from those first couple months when the boy was practically _in love_ with him. She had felt for him, really. Because she knew how it felt to love someone who wouldn't love you back. It was practically her whole life, wanting and not receiving. It was a big contributor to her attitude about solos. Singing was the one thing she truly owned. It was hers, she was the best at what she did, so yeah, it pissed her off when she didn't get the solos she _should_ get. She wasn't _trying_ to be a diva, it just happened that way, because she was defensive when someone tried to take away one of the few things that was hers.

Back to the point, though. She didn't really know Sam. She would guess she could call him her friend, if she had to call him anything, but that was really only because they were both in glee club.

But friend or not, when she sees someone in trouble, Mercedes is the type of girl who acts.

That's why when she saw Sam that day with that upset look on his face, she followed him, and found him sitting on the floor of an empty classroom with his face in his hands, she knelt down and lay her hand gently on his shoulder. "Do you wanna talk about something?" she asked.

He looked up at her, face crumpled in a deep frown, his cheeks wet, and she worried that she shouldn't have bothered him, maybe he wanted to be alone. He looked surprised she was here, trying to comfort him even though she barely knew him, but he let her. He didn't really have the strength to tell her to go away. He didn't really want to, either, he kind of _did_ want to talk. But for several minutes, he couldn't, so he let her hold him and cried into her shoulder, embarrassed, but glad someone cared.

Mercedes rubbed circles into his back, making _shh_ noises, because her mom had always done that to calm her down, and slowly his sobs were subsiding.

"Now," she said, pulling back and looking into his eyes - and wow, they were a pretty muted green color... She mentally shook the thought from her head. "You gonna tell me what's got you so upset?"

His voice was a croak, rough from crying, but the pain in his throat was starting to ease off. "My uncle," he said, and cleared his throat, wiping his face on his sleeve. Then he told her about the call he'd gotten at lunch. It had been his mom, and she'd had some really horrible news.

"He had cancer... I've been trying to hold it together all day, but..." Mercedes gave his shoulders a little squeeze. "I understand," she said. "My Grandmother died of breast cancer a couple years ago. It's not easy."

His tears were gone, he didn't feel like he could cry anymore. He blinked a few times, staring at the wall, and then hung his head, staring at the crack in the tile on the floor. "I'm sorry," he said.

She shook her head, smiling sadly. "Nah, she wouldn't want you to be sorry. She had a good life, and I bet your uncle did too."

Sam nodded. He sat for another moment, just taking in the feeling of being held. It felt _good_. And then he wiped his face and neck again and stood up, offering Mercedes a hand up, too. "Thanks," he said, eyes downcast. "You probably missed most of your last class," he said, biting his lip. She shrugged. "It ain't no thang," she said, and he grinned at her swagger.

"So..."

"So," she said, "we should do something some time." She smiled. "We could go to the mall. I know retail therapy probably isn't your thing, but ice cream therapy's just as good."

He grinned again. "That sounds awesome. Tomorrow, after school?"

Mercedes tried to look like she was thinking before nodding.

"It's a date," he said.

"A friend date," she clarified.

He laughed. "Way to shoot a guy down."

* * *

She could tell that it helped him to have someone to talk to. He was smiling now, telling her about how close he and his uncle had been in between licking his ice cream cone. They walked around the mall, arm-in-arm, their conversation halted now and then with little jokes about the mannequins and comments about the TV shows and movies advertised in posters everywhere.

"My sister watches Hellcats," he said, pointing to a picture of a scantily clad cheerleading squad. Mercedes shrugged. "I watched a couple episodes, but it's not really my thing." Sam smiled that adorable half-smile and took another tongue-full of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

She knew she was supposed to be playing the role of supportive friend, but _damn_, boy was fine. Why hadn't she noticed before?

"I'm _really_ going to regret eating this," he said.

Mercedes turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "You don't _seriously_ still think you're fat, do you?"

Sam gave a hesitant half-smile. "I...that's not what I meant," he said. "I just mean, I've got a _really_ strict diet to keep me looking _this good_." He ran a hand over his torso, really smiling this time.

"Sweetie," Mercedes said, "I've seen that sick pack you're rocking and that little ice cream cone ain't gonna do you _no_ harm." She smiled, too, and Sam kind of regretted saying anything.

"I don't mean to say I have anything against...heavier people." This was so going down a wrong road. He ran over the back of his neck, wishing he could just swallow his words back. "I just...have to work really hard to keep myself at a place where I can be confident about myself..."

Mercedes didn't take any offense, she knew what he meant, but she disagreed. "Did you ever think maybe that barely-there bit of softness might make you _more_ attractive?"

He shook his head, smiling a little. "What?"

She shrugged. "_I_ definitely wouldn't want a man with nothing but skin and bone and sinew. That's all."

He laughed and threw his arm around her shoulders, walking on and taking another lick at that delicious ice cream cone, and Mercedes couldn't _help_ but take a little thrill at the feeling of wrapping her arm around his waist. "You know," she said, a few minutes later as they neared the little carousel at the end of the mall, "I think things would be easier for you if you just expressed your emotions."

"Well talking to you has definitely helped," he said. He'd worked his ice cream down to the cone and took a bite of it, and when he'd chewed it up and swallowed, he added a "Thanks," and a smile.

"You should sing, Sam."

"What, about my uncle?"

Mercedes smiled. "You could do it during glee club. It'd be good for you."

* * *

A brown-haired boy poked his head into the doorway of the choir room, and Sam cleared his throat and stood up. "Um, Mr. Schue?" he said, gesturing for the boy at the door to come in. He did, followed by a girl who looked about thirteen with long blond hair and lips almost identical to Sam's.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"I um, I need to express something going on in my life right now," Sam said, picking up the guitar and slipping the strap over his head. "If you don't mind."

Mr. Schuester shrugged and shook his head.

"So, um, I invited my little sister and my cousin Blake, cause they need to hear this too."

Mercedes watched as the blond girl sat next to Quinn and the boy, Blake - who, now that she thought of it, also looked strikingly like Sam - hesitantly took a seat at the edge of the room, away from everyone else. Everyone was watching Sam intently. He cleared his throat again.

"When I was growing up," he said, "I was really close with my uncle Melvin, and my cousin," he gestured at Blake. "We used to go fishing and camping and stuff together, with my dad, and...about a year ago, he was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer." His voice broke and he had to take a pause for a minute, but he cleared his throat and started up again, making eye contact with Mercedes and smiling weakly.

"He didn't handle it the way I think he should have," he said. "He couldn't afford chemo, and he didn't want to spend the rest of his days in a hospital bed, so he lied to his family. He told us all that he felt so much better and that it was a miracle, and God had healed him because we'd all been praying." His eyes connected with Blake's for a moment and he gave an apologetic smile. "I knew...that it wasn't true. And that in the end it would turn out badly, but I guess he did it so his family wouldn't have to be sad for the rest of his life."

The too-familiar pain was back in his throat, and he was blinking back tears that he really didn't want to spill in front of his whole class. "He passed away a couple days ago, and there's a lot of pain in our family because of it, but I wanted to do something to celebrate his last year, because I think that's what's important. So..." He cleared his throat again, and started strumming the guitar.

_He said, "I was in my early forties,  
__With a lot of life before me,  
__An' a moment came that stopped me on a dime.  
__I spent most of the next days,  
__Looking at the x-rays,  
__An' talking 'bout the options an' talkin' bout sweet time."  
__I asked him when it sank in,  
__That this might really be the real end?  
__How's it hit you when you get that kind of news?  
__Man whatcha do?_

It started with one tear, falling down his cheek, and then it was like the floodgates had opened and he couldn't stop.

_An he said: "I went sky diving, I went rocky mountain climbing,  
__I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu.  
__And I loved deeper, and I spoke sweeter,  
__And I gave forgiveness I'd been denying."  
__An' he said: "Some day, I hope you get the chance,  
__To live like you were dyin'."_

_He said "I was finally the husband,  
__That most the time I wasn't  
__An' I became a friend a friend would like to have.  
__And all of a sudden goin' fishin'  
__Wasn't such an imposition,  
__And I went three times that year I lost my Dad.  
__Well I finally read the Good Book,  
__And I took a good long hard look,  
__At what I'd do if I could do it all again,  
__And then_

_I went sky diving, I went rocky mountain climbing,  
__I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu.  
__And I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter,  
__And I gave forgiveness I'd been denying."  
__An' he said: "Some day I hope you get the chance,  
__To live like you were dyin'."_

_Like tomorrow was a gift,  
__And you got eternity,  
__To think about what you'd do with it.  
__An' what did you do with it?  
__An' what can I do with it?  
__An' what would I do with it?_

He was a little surprised when Blake and Marissa joined with soft voices as the key changed, but he kept on playing.

"_Sky diving, I went rocky mountain climbing,  
__I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu.  
__And I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter,  
__And I watched an eagle as it was flyin'."  
__An' he said: "Some day I hope you get the chance,  
__To live like you were dyin'."_

And he was even more surprised when the whole glee club started singing the last verse, over and over, and he saw that some of them were crying, too, and Quinn was holding Marissa's hand, and Kurt was wiping his eyes, and he remembered that thing he'd forgotten. He remembered that this was his family, and that these people would be with him no matter what he went through in his life, and suddenly he was ashamed for not having trusted them with his feelings from the beginning.

"_To live like you were dyin'.  
__To live like you were dyin'.  
__To live like you were dyin'.  
__To live like you were dyin."_

* * *

**an:** Okay guys, I'm so sorry for keeping you all waiting for this update, and I hope I got it right! I really wanted more Mercedes and I was listening to the radio (yes, I listen to country music sometimes, so sue me) and this thought just struck me, and I know I've been looking for ways to stretch out these last few chapters and this was it :) I wanted things to get a little more personal for Sam. I also wanted you to see a softer side of him, and I also felt the need to address his body issues from The Rocky Horror Glee Show last night. The song is _Live Like You Were Dying_ by Tim McGraw, and yes, Sam is a country boy at heart!

So let me know what you all thought, I'd love to hear any opinions, suggestions, comments, whatever. There's also _plenty_ of room for plot ideas and song suggestions, because I have to make this story last to the end of their school year, so let me know, seriously! You have _no idea_ how lovely and motivating a good review can be, it seriously brightens my day. I'll try to update again soon, and, you can expect to see more Mercedes in upcoming chapters! :)

oh, one more little thing: if you want to know where the idea for Sam's cousin came from, google Blake Bashoff :) he was in the Broadway musical Spring Awakening, and a friend of mine said something about how remarkably similar he looks to Chord Overstreet, so I knew I had to bring him in some how. :)


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